


The Guest at Table Sixteen

by Lucretiassister



Series: Splendors Sequels [2]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Old Flames, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucretiassister/pseuds/Lucretiassister
Summary: It's Caroline and Dwight's wedding day and the bride is determined that nothing--no secrets, no surprises, no unwanted reminders of the past--will ruin the occasion.
Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark, Dwight Enys/Caroline Penvenen
Series: Splendors Sequels [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563472
Comments: 58
Kudos: 76





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sequel takes place six months after the action leaves off in Which By Its Splendors Rivals the Heavens (a Poldark Modern AU), but one needn't have read the first work to follow along here. That said, there are some allusions to past connections between Dwight and Demelza (and Ross and Caroline) that might disturb some gentle readers if they haven’t read the Splendors fic. Take heart, those relationships do remain in the past. However in this installment there may be other ghosts from the past that are not so easily pacified.

_February 2018_

With a gentle gloved hand, he shut the boot of the Carrera then settled in the driver’s seat with a sigh. His luggage for the weekend--including his suit bag--was packed, and beside him on the empty passenger seat, was the slightly battered _Birds of Northern England_ that he’d pulled off his shelf impulsively before he’d left his flat. He thumbed through it quickly and tried to catch his breath.

Would she be there? Maybe--chances were strong if she’d stayed in close contact with the groom. But maybe not. As close as they’d been perhaps a jealous bride wouldn’t welcome her presence. Or more likely she was off in the Amazon somewhere or Mozambique or St. Paul, Minnesota. Like a bird--that he had accepted years ago. She could never be pinned down, could she?

_But who was she loving now?_

He’d cleared the five hour journey ahead of him with his doctor--as of now he was still fit for driving. They would need to reevaluate again in six weeks. Now everything was measured in six week intervals. He knew at the first hint of headache or exhaustion or the dreaded aura, he’d stop at once and rest. He’d have no choice, really, and had come to accept his limitations. The Enys-Penvenen wedding wasn’t until Saturday. He could take the drive down to Cornwall over two days if necessary.

He switched on the ignition and tapped eagerly at the heat controls. It was cold--not unexpected for mid February--but he didn’t feel comforted by the sight of his own breath. 

_They are finite now, aren’t they?_

He was about to enter the destination into the SATNAV on his mobile but instead pulled a small black notebook from his breast pocket. He felt desperately for a pen then recalled his was in his case in the boot, so he fumbled about in the glovebox. At last he found the fountain pen engraved with ‘Compliments of Porsche Centre Mayfair,’ its case the same graphite blue as the Cabriolet’s exterior finish.

He began scrawling at once, then remembered to take off his gloves, lest any ink leak onto the fine leather.

_Twilight hovers now with a familiar permanence_

_The sun bleeds in the west, a reminder of her warmth forever gone._

_It was she that slit the velvet night with her dagger--_

_The hand wrapped around the hilt_

_More precious than the jewels embellishing it--_

_And slipped the sliver of moon away for safe-keeping._

_She didn’t hang the moon, she hid it._

_If my darkness ever fully comes,_

_One by one the stars will surely go out_

_And only when her light from my memory fades,_

_Will I, on my bed of ashes,_

_Breathe my last and be rid of her kiss._

No, he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath any time soon.

\-----

“Is that the post, dear?” Dwight asked as he came upon his fiance in the hallway.

“Yes it is but nothing of interest--I mean of interest for me. These are for you--I have no idea if they hold any interest for you since I, of course, don't read your mail.” Caroline smiled and handed him a stack of envelopes that resembled bills.

Dwight shuffled through them and pulled a face, then tossed them on the table under the large gilt mirror that probably had graced the grand entryway of Killewarren for centuries. “Oh I thought maybe they were replies to our wedding invitations,” he said, “I’ve yet to see any.”

“Good god, those aren’t coming here! I told you Lorenzo and Katie are handling all the details of the entire event.”

“Except the music,” Dwight reminded her. Caroline had been very proud of the selections she made for the ceremony, but was keeping those details a surprise from Dwight.

In return Dwight had planned their honeymoon, and was keeping the final destination a secret from Caroline. He only revealed it would be relaxing and warm. “Pack your passport, your sunscreen, and a swimsuit,” he’d told her.

“Fiji? Bali?” she’d guessed. 

“Oh those would have been splendid. Too bad I hadn’t thought of them before I booked our flight,” he teased.

She thought she might be able to get some information out of Demelza, her best friend, but had been wrong on that score.

“Yes, I do know what Dwight is planning but no, I’m not going to say one word, Caroline!” Demelza had laughed. “But I can assure you, you _both_ will love it and it will be perfect.” 

So Caroline resigned herself to wait patiently even though the suspense was killing her. It was only days away now.

The wedding vows, however, Caroline and Dwight had composed together. Simple, poignant, not too personally revealing yet absolutely sincere. One Sunday afternoon they sat down and found the words came easily. They also found they worked well together, which each took to be a good sign, since they were embarking upon a life together.

“I’m still surprised you didn't want more control over the affair,” Dwight shook his head. “I mean since planning events and styling venues and people are your…”

“My professional passion and livelihood? That is precisely why I wanted nothing to do with it! I chose my dress then ceded all other decisions to Lorenzo, who I happen to trust completely.” 

Lorenzo had been Caroline’s loyal business associate for years but in truth Dwight had no idea how old the man was or where he came from--or what he thought of Dwight. No matter the situation, Lorenzo also donned the same look of bored impatience and was otherwise inscrutable. 

But Dwight had learned quickly that he personally benefited from Caroline’s close ties to the mysterious Lorenzo. Over the past few months she’d had left more and more decisions to him as she made her home life a greater priority. 

“Besides I don't want to be _working_ on my wedding day and fussing about the table linens or some such nonsense. I want to be as much of a guest as...well as the actual guests.”

“But you _did_ approve a final guest list?”

“I did not. I provided Lorenzo with a broad net of my friends and relations and yours..”

“All six of mine,” Dwight joked.

“There were twelve of your friends that I passed along.”

“Even with the men from the Mining Consortium? Only twelve?”

“Yes, even with those sweet old men. And your cousin Roger. Have I told you how I’m dying to meet the only other Enys relation still alive?”

“I do have another cousin, but she lives in South Africa now and I haven’t spoken to her in nearly twenty years."

“Oh Dwight, why hadn’t you mentioned her? It may not be too late…” Caroline began then read his face and saw it wasn’t to be pursued. “Of course Ross and Demelza were on my list, not yours.”

“I believe they were my friends first, Caroline,” he replied with gentle laughter. It was just like her to rewrite the past and claim her friendship with the pair somehow had precedence.

“Well they don’t actually count as guests since they are part of the bridal party. Anyway, Lorenzo then consulted with my Aunt Sarah and he came up with a final list that I haven’t even seen. And there is only one person I care about seeing at Saturday’s reception and that is my dear husband, Dr. Dwight Enys.”

\------

“Demelza?” Ross called out as soon as he entered the warm glow of the Nampara hallway. Snow still clung to his shoes and he desperately rubbed his cold hands together. He’d left his gloves at the office and had only remembered when he was already driving home.

Now he was still chilled but happy to be indoors and eager to see his girlfriend, Demelza, with whom he’d been living for the past six months. Half a year had not cooled his interest nor dampened his desire for her, and every day he marveled at his good fortune to have her so close in his life.

“Demelza?” he called again, then realised he hadn’t been met by Garrick, their dog, either. “Prudie?” he called next.

“Aye, Mister Ross! You made it home then and in one piece. Supper’ll be ready in about half an…”

“Where’s Demelza?” he interrupted, then realised he was coming across as overly possessive of his girlfriend and rude to his housekeeper’s greeting. He’d been making concerted efforts of late to show more warmth in his outward demeanor, at least at home. “It smells wonderful, Prudie,” he started again. “Can I help you?”

She rolled her eyes and reached to take his coat.

“Go pour a whisky and warm yerself by the fire in the parlour. Demelza just went out with the dog but I suspect she’ll be back soon, with this wind and snow! Hope the Penvenen-Enys do on Saturday don’t get snowed out,” Prudie fretted. “Always a risk with a Valentine’s Day weddin’.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Caroline Penvenen has an old family connection to Mother Nature herself and special-ordered a temperate day,” Ross laughed.

\----

“Garrick, come back here. You need to have your feet wiped!” Demelza’s laughter rang out from the hallway. “What a naughty boy! You can’t escape Prudie, you know.”

“No, he can’t,” Prudie called from the kitchen.”I got him now.”

“Hello my love,” Demelza said and came up behind Ross as he stretched out in front of the fire. She bent down to kiss him and melting snow fell from her hair and dripped down his forehead. She laughed.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she said and pulled off her gloves. They were a man’s pair, oversized and mismatched, but had done the job at keeping her hands warm. She‘d made a habit of foraging about Nampara for discarded scraps left by Ross’s father--work clothes, jumpers, gloves, old woolens. Sometimes she even wore Ross’s clothes if they were handy; this evening she was wearing his parka. “You’re home earlier than we’d expected,” she said.

“Are you disappointed?” He cocked his brow playfully and rose to his feet to follow her. He unzipped the parka with a hungry look as if he were undressing her in their bedroom. He flung it over the sofa and kissed her again; her nose felt cold against his face. He pulled away slightly to look into her shining eyes.

She licked her lips and put her hand to his cheek.

“Disappointed? Most certainly not.” She kissed him again. “And I am pleased you had the sense to leave Grace before things got worse. I’d hate to find your car frozen in a ditch somewhere.”

“Yes, the roads were terrible but I managed to drive most of the way directly behind a gritter truck.”

“You do seem to have amazing luck,” she said.

“Indeed I do,” he said and slipped his hand around her waist. “Demelza? What do you have under your jumper?”

It was a fair question to ask. A naturalist by profession, she liked to collect all sorts of bits, living and dead, from the fields and shore, and was forever bringing her trophies back to study.

One day that summer she’d brought home a collection of tiny orphan bunnies after Garrick had killed the mother. Feeling responsible for their fate since she hadn’t stopped Garrick in his chase, Demelza refused to leave the warren to starve. She set them up in a crate in her laboratory and fed them a special diet, first with an eye dropper and then, when they moved to solids, by her own patient hand. She’d enlisted all of them--Prudie, Dwight, and Ross--into brushing them several times daily with old mascara brushes. Apparently the soothing gesture mimicked the grooming their mother would have done in the wild. Only two wee bunnies completed their circles of life and the still soft bodies were brought back to the cliffside where they’d had buried the mother. The others grew strong and eventually Demelza released them with confidence that they were hearty enough to make it on their own.

“Oh, I was just down by the sea,” she said tonight. “It’s so dark and fierce and beautiful in winter...don’t worry, I kept my distance, Ross. But look I found these rocks.” She pulled them out from the fold of her oversized jumper. “I thought, well, they’re so special they reminded me of Dwight and Caroline in a way and I thought I’d give them as a wedding present.”

“I thought we bought them silver from their registry?”

“Oh that, yes, but that’s not _personal_. Look at these colours and these markings…”

She placed the three large stones across his broad palm. One had a pattern of almost geometric-looking yellow and black shapes, another was mottled green and red, and the third had a pink stripe down its middle.

“That’s quartz breccia, this one is serpentinite, and this is a pink feldspar vein,” he explained.

“Of course I should have known to ask my minerals engineer boyfriend to identify them for me! At least you didn't tell me it was just a bit of concrete smoothed over by the sea!”

“Did I spoil your fun?” he asked. 

“No more than when I identify some bird or another for you after you’ve pointed out you like their pretty feathers,” she smiled and set the rocks down on the table. “Come, dinner will be ready soon.”

“Forget dinner,” he said grabbing her hand and staring into her eyes.

“Not hungry?” she asked.

“Just tired. From work...tired of talking, tired of arguing, tired of inquiring, tired of driving. I think I just want you…” He pulled her close.

“Did you know the best way to spot a really fine beach pebble is to stand in one spot, not to move around? Just stay put and then you begin to notice all the special things around you. I read that today,” she said softly.

“Sound advice for more than just pebble hunting,” he replied and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

\-----

Later that evening as they were getting ready to sleep, Demelza sat up plaiting her hair then stopped abruptly, as though something troubled her mid thought.

“Demelza?” Ross asked, then slid under the covers next to her. The snow that had been soft and fluffy earlier had turned to tiny freezing pellets that the howling wind scattered against the windows. He reached eagerly for her body to warm him.

“You are doubting Caroline will appreciate the pebbles from the beach, aren’t you?” She looked at him with a serious expression.

“You should do whatever you are compelled to do and I suspect what I think doesn’t matter. I could see Dwight liking them and understanding the gesture, but I’m not sure Caroline would know what to do with a rock that wasn’t at least ten carats and princess cut,” Ross laughed and laid his head on the pillow next to her.

“I don’t know, Ross. I think I know Caroline well. You don’t give her enough credit.”

“You think? Well I’ve always found you to be a good judge of character,” he said. “I’ll take your word.”

“I mean maybe I haven’t known her as long as you have but we talk a fair bit about all sorts of things,” she went on. 

“About beach pebbles?” he laughed.

“Don’t tease, Ross. We talk about lots of things.”

“Do you ever tell Caroline...intimate stuff?” 

“You mean about sex?” she laughed. “With you? No.”

“I meant with Dwight,” he said, raising a devilish brow. He knew he was stirring the pot.

“Especially no. I don’t think she’d handle that well. We just sort of pretend that never happened.”

“And can you? Forget?” he replied.

“I don't know Ross, can you?” she quipped back. It was definitely a tease but had the slightest edge in her tone. A warning perhaps that he might not want to wade so casually into such old and murky waters lest dangers await him as well.

“Forget about you and Dwight? If you say you have, then I have as well. You chose me. End of story.”

“I might ask you about what sex with Caroline was like…” she said. 

“Yes, well I can forget that and have,” he replied without hesitation. “I won’t lie--I like her and she likes me...we still get on well. But don’t for a moment think what remains in my feeling for her is any rival with my feeling for you. Nor do I suppose that there is any comparison between her liking for me and her love for Dwight. It is a peculiar thing, but there it is.” 

“There it is,” she repeated.

“It was so long ago--almost nine years ago really--that Caroline and I shared a moment--far before I met you and before she met Dwight,” he went on. “And it was probably the most mature moment of my life when I woke up in Caroline Penevenen’s bed and realised here was something I _could_ have and even liked-- but didn't want. She felt the same way and we’ve laughed about it for years.”

“Oh…” Demelza turned away and began to pick at the wick of an unlit candle on the bed side table. 

He could read she’d just closed off from him.

“Demelza?”

“Nothing…”

“Demelza?”

“Well I suppose I’m just not as in touch with my _mature_ reason as you Ross since it took me a bit longer to have that realisation about Dwight.” 

Ten years in fact Demelza and Dwight had been on and off lovers. But always friends, which is how Demelza exclusively thought about Dwight now that she was with Ross. Even when she cast her memory back over their long friendship, it was the platonic moments that came to mind first, as though she’d been able to completely edit out any sexual feelings from her past entirely.

She wasn’t bothered tonight that Ross had had any previous connection--even a brief one--with Caroline. What irked her now was what he might still think about her and Dwight, even though he’d just claimed that he let it go. Why did he bring it up now of all times?

“Demelza, come here.” She reluctantly moved closer and allowed him to envelope her in an embrace. His lips grazed the crown of her head and she bit her lip, trying not to smile; he knew how to persuade her of the depth of his feelings.

“You know I don’t judge you. Your past is just that--past and _yours_ ,” he said seriously. “And since mine is more storied and reckless, I trust you don’t hold anything against me.

“Of course, Ross.” She settled against him and closed her eyes.

“And sometimes I say stupid things that seem like I’m jealous…”

“Jealous? Of the _past_?” She opened her eyes in alarm. “Ross, that’s ridiculous. Of all the things to be jealous of…” 

“I know,” he replied. “Wait...should I be jealous of something in your _present?_ ”

She raised her brow provocatively.

“I suppose you’ll have to figure that out for yourself with your mature…”

“Yes, yes...my mature reason.” He bit her ear and she giggled and returned the gesture by pinching his backside.


	2. 2

Caroline slid her smooth hand into Dwight’s and gave it a squeeze. 

“Hold fast, my darling. We have one more sizable obligation then we can slip away to the dance floor and forget every other soul,” she whispered as they walked towards the reception line waiting for them outside the ballroom of the historic Alverton Hotel.

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to this crowd. I think...I want to go back to church,” Dwight laughed. “I never thought I’d say that but it may have been the loveliest ceremony I’ve ever attended. And not just because of how it ended.” He raised Caroline’s hand to his mouth and kissed the gold band that graced her delicate finger.

“It was,” she nodded. “Didn’t it seem as though time stood still for us?” she asked dreamily. “Of course we could have said anything for our vows, no one heard them over my blubbering,” she said, slipping in just a hint of her usual sarcasm. What Caroline characterised as her ugly display of emotion had in fact been a slightly wobbly voice and a single tear that lingered with perfect discipline on her flawless cheek. 

It had been Dwight--and also Ross Poldark--who openly cried during the performance of “Alto Giove.” The haunting opening strings first served to put them on guard, then the accompaniment fell away completely and the soprano began a slow gradual crescendo to the B flat she seemed able to hold indefinitely. The tension and delayed release of the note along with the loneliness of the unaccompanied voice made the moment absolutely chilling. By the time the strings joined back in, both the groom and the best man had reached for their handkerchiefs. Demelza put her hand to her heart but looked at her feet, nervously trying not to giggle.

“That piece the vocalist sang after we exchanged our vows…” Dwight asked now, as if reading Caroline’s thoughts.

“The Porpora? I knew you’d love it. My mother chose it for her wedding--her second one to my stepfather. Originally it would have been performed by a castrato but in this century we had to settle for Miss Catherine Trebarthen from Padstow. But I dare say she did a fine job.” Caroline smiled with a beautiful twist of her lips that revealed her triumphant pride.

“Caroline? If you never saw the final guest list then how will you recognise who all these people are?” Dwight asked in sudden terror.

“I never forget a face. But in case I do, just smile and nod and tell them how much you’ve been dying to meet them.”

Several moments later they emerged through the doorway and were mobbed by throngs of well wishers all wanting to kiss the bride and shake the groom’s hand. Dwight suspected there were quite a few who were also more than curious to check out the stranger who’d descended upon Cornwall and snatched up the eligible Penvenen heiress after only a few months of courtship.

Caroline’s school chums were the worst as they moved down the line, obvious in their smiles and leers, the quick darts at Dwight’s backside, followed by winks to her. A series of stiff and well-dressed older men and women came through next--neighbours and friends of the late uncle who’d left Caroline his estate, Killewarren, and a pile of cash to go with it. They nodded a quiet approval at Dwight, but spent most of their time gawking at Caroline’s diamond engagement ring, which Dwight had picked out but Uncle Ray’s money had paid for. 

At one point the line got stalled when a doddering old gentleman first lingered too long in his embrace of Caroline and then decided the maid of honour beside her needed extra attention as well.

Demelza laughed and removed his busy hands from her hip and took it in good spirits. Ross seemed less amused. His eyes turned dark and his upper body stiffened.

“Come, Ross,” Demelza said quickly. “I’m sure Caroline can spare us for a moment if we go get you a drink of something cold...or warm...or just wet.” 

Ross, relieved to be free of such a tedious social duty and considering himself chastised for an obvious display of jealousy, followed her off towards the bar without argument.

 _Damn, damn, damn_ , Caroline’s mind raced as the next guest approached the line. He was youngish--early thirties perhaps or maybe even younger--and very handsome. He had a head of big soft curls and large brown eyes that reminded her of the lovely young men found in Caravaggio paintings. She could tell he was fit and his stomach firm based on how his hand-tailored shirt met his trousers. She wasn’t really leering at his physique, it was just that, by profession, she was trained to notice these things--or so she reassured herself.

 _Who the hell is this guy? He went to St. Edwards and plays the guitar…how can I remember that bit and not his name? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, s_ he thought just as she felt his soft lips kiss her cheek.

And then she exhaled in relief.

“Oh Hugh, delighted to see you again,” she said, proud of her last second revelation. “Dwight, this is Hugh Armitage…a dear, dear family friend. Hugh, may I present my _husband,_ Dr. Dwight Enys?”

“Yes, I’ve been dying to meet you,” Dwight said and offered his hand.

“Was that Demelza Carne?” the young man asked abruptly without acknowledging the introduction or even waiting for a polite pause in the exchange.

“Yes it was,” Caroline said, her brow arched in curiosity, sensing something had agitated him. “Of course you mean _Doctor_ Demelza Carne?” she said.

“You two know each other?” Dwight asked stiffly, noticing Hugh’s eyes still fixed on Demelza as she moved across the room.

“Yes, a while ago--quite a while ago--Demelza and I...we dated. Back in Liverpool. She was, as they say, the one who got away.”

“Oh, goodness. I had no idea,” Caroline said and squeezed Dwight’s hand in panic.

\---

Escaping the clutches of her Aunt Sarah’s friends proved no small matter. Caroline suspected two thirds of the guests there that evening were associated with her aunt; of course the woman would have needled Lorenzo to get the “right names” on the guest list. It also seemed they’d traveled en masse down from London for the occasion.

“And in _such_ weather, you know, my dear,” one added as though the bride was somehow responsible for the February snow storm earlier that week. Finally Caroline found the opportunity to slip away and drew Dwight aside.

“Good god, my love, we have the potential for some drama!” she whispered. 

“No, we don't,” he said simply and shook his head. “This is your day and everything shall be perfect as I promised…”

“No...I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. “But please, indulge me. I had no idea that Hugh Armitage had ever dated _our_ Demelza!”

“It’s funny, I do sort of remember her mentioning the name. I think she’d just ended things with him when I’d driven up to meet her in Snowdonia...never mind. None of this matters today, Caroline.”

“Well, I haven't seen him in years but I do recall he had something in his past that had devastated him.” She lowered her voice again. “He actually ‘went away’ for a bit, for a rest they had said. But now we know! Darling Dwight, we have to keep him far from Demelza tonight. One of my most sincere wishes for this evening is that all guests and especially all members of this bridal party remain happy and enjoy in our celebration. No tears, no quarreling, no vomiting…you get the idea.” She seemed excited by the challenge.

“Surely Demelza isn’t your main concern?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh she’s a strong woman but I’d feel forever horrid for having thrown her into such a situation. It’s so unlike me to have not sussed this out and gathered the intel. It’s my pride you see.”

“Don't you think he’ll approach her?” 

“Not if we prevent it,” she said confidently.

“She’ll notice him for sure,” he replied.

“There are hundreds of guests. We’ll simply need to keep her busy. Besides her eyes are rather trained on Ross tonight.” Caroline tossed her beautifully veiled head in the direction of the Nampara couple who were the only ones on the dance floor at the moment but apparently weren’t bothered by that inconvenient detail.

“Shall I warn Ross?” Dwight wondered. “He can be a bit of powder keg at times…”

“Heavens no! He’s the last who should know!” she said without hesitation. “And we’d better employ the troops as well... Lorenzo!” She hissed and seemingly out of nowhere her associate emerged, wearing a discreet headset and a look of cold steel in his eye.

“Why have you stepped out of the reception line?” Lorenzo asked looking at his watch. Apparently Caroline had broken from the schedule. 

“Lorenzo, tell me where is Hugh Armitage seated?” she asked. 

He immediately pulled out a small tablet and scrolled through several tabs before he got the information he sought.

“Table 3. Next to your Aunt Sarah and…”

“No! No no no! Too close. Quick we need to reshuffle,” she whispered and snatched the tablet from his hands. It was still the cocktail hour and no one had been seated yet for dinner.

Lorenzo rolled his eyes in undisguised annoyance.

“Look, let’s move Verity and Andrew Blamey to 3 and put Hugh next to the Warleggans at Table 16. By the way, Lorenzo, we’ll have to talk later about the fact that _they_ are here…”

“Your aunt suggested the Warleggans be invited,” he replied, unwilling to assume any blame for an unchecked guest list. 

“She doesn't quite know the whole nasty little story does she? That George Wareggan hired thugs to ruin my husband’s business and almost killed my best friend in the process?” Caroline said through a smile, looking around the room to see if they were being overheard. 

“Caroline, you’ve been at loads of parties with the Warleggans since last spring. I assumed…” Lorenzo shook his head.

“They were all charity affairs and George was invited for his cheque book not his company! Well I'm not going to give George any power by letting him know his presence disturbs me. I’ll just pretend this is one of Constance Bodrugan’s parties to Save the Hounds or whatever such cause she supports these days. I’ll smile in acknowledgement and then walk away.”

“If we move Andrew Blamey then we need to shuffle one other person from Table 3. What about Reverend Halse?” Dwight suggested. “I’d rather not be so close to him anyway, judging me every time I took a drink or kissed the bride.” 

“Or move Halse to 14 and move Ruth Teague from 14 to 16. Look it works perfectly--she’ll be next to her mother,” Caroline suggested.

“Caroline! I had an algorithm!” Lorenzo snapped.

“A what?” she laughed.

“I’ve calculated the degrees of connection of every guest in this room, so that each has someone novel to talk to that isn't too far from their comfort zones, you know, not too foreign that they don’t just turn and talk to the ones they came with.”

“Good god, that’s amazing,” Dwight said, admiring the science behind it.

“I told you we were in good hands,” Caroline beamed.

“So the Teague _daughter_ is not supposed to be next to the Teague _mother_!” Lorenzo spat, then lowered his voice back to his usual bored and moderated tone. “She’s single and is it not a wedding after all?”

“Ok, Lorenzo,” Caroline said calmly, wisely knowing he was not someone to upset this evening. “Look, Table 23, the seat next to Dwight’s mate, Kevin. Put Ruth there. Then let’s put Margaret Vosper at Table 16. That’s actually funny because Margaret and George had a thing years ago--not sure Elizabeth knows about it, it was when she was still married to Francis…oh, Francis had a thing with Margaret too, I believe, so it’s all quite entertaining.”

Content that the reordering of the tables would prevent--or at least delay--an uncomfortable encounter between Hugh and Demelza, and feeling nearly certain that Lorenzo would forgive her for undoing his careful work, Caroline guided Dwight back into the ballroom toward their table in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that overlooked the magnificent snow-covered grounds. The bride and groom were by no means done with their greeting duty but she thought they might indulge in a well-deserved break.

The room was filled with the gentle tinkling of glasses and laughter, as the guests, the best and brightest of Cornwall and beyond, mingled over cocktails and friendly conversation. A small orchestra played old standards, nothing too loud but lively enough should anyone want to dance. Ross and Demelza had been on the dance floor straight through several songs and by the way they held each other closely, they didn’t seem interested in taking a break any time soon. A few others had joined them so they were no longer awkwardly alone. Caroline recognised the banker, Francis Bassett, as well as Sergeant Martin and his wife. The Bassetts seemed to have at some point taken dance instruction, for their coordinated steps were perfectly timed and included small flourishes and hand changes that signaled experience and practice.

Less skilled came a man in his late thirties, pulling a giggling young woman on to the floor. He nearly tripped over her dress at once then his hand went straight for her bum. She quickly moved it up to her back and continued to laugh at his goofy antics. Caroline wasn’t sure who the young woman was, but knew the man to be an old friend of Dwight’s from university.

“Keep an eye on your mate Kevin,” Caroline whispered to Dwight. “He seems on the hunt tonight. Maybe he’ll find Mrs. Kevin #2.”

“Three,” Dwight replied. “He had a second marriage to an Australian woman that was shorter lived than his first.”

“A starter marriage and a rebound marriage. So uncouth--let’s hope it doesn’t rub off on you. Thankfully not all of your friends have such bad manners,” Caroline teased, nodding towards Ross and Demelza.

“So tonight Demelza and Ross are my friends after all?” Dwight laughed.

\--

“These blooms are so very lovely! I’ve never seen calla lilies in such a deep shade of plum. Very striking for a February wedding,” the woman next to Hugh, who’d introduced herself as Mrs. Teague, said in an admiring swoon.

“Yes, I heard they are locally and _ethically_ sourced,” Elizabeth Warleggan responded with a knowing nod towards the flowers adorning the table. That would have also meant they were four times the cost, which is what she no doubt found impressive.

“That must have been _his_ idea,” her husband George sneered and turned away dismissively.

“And my goodness these other ones--what are they called? They smell like the heavens…always a worry for a winter wedding,” Mrs. Teague went on. She would know all about weddings having had scads of daughters to marry off. There was just the one--young Ruth--who remained unattached now. Tonight it seemed Mrs. Teague was taking notes for one last such event and perhaps even on the lookout for a groom.

“That’s funny,” Agatha Poldark grumbled. “Ranunculus are known for having no scent at all.”

Mrs. Teague hadn’t paid the old woman any mind and turned to Hugh. “Fresh flowers--nothing is more cheering. Are we boring you with all this silly talk, Mister Armitage or are you...erm...a man who can indulge a lady’s love of flowers?”

Hugh hadn’t heard the woman speak. He was recalling Demelza’s smell lingering on his pillow. 

_I held on to that for weeks--of course it had faded by then but I pretended it hadn’t. Oh the sensation--to feel the pain so keenly but to be comforted by such a familiar scent. I suppose in the end it smelled of my own salty tears._

Hugh smiled weakly at Mrs. Teague and took a sip from his glass, then gazed across the room at the dance floor.

_I’ll have to speak to her soon._

Dr. Demelza Carne was occupied at the moment, dancing with a tall dark man. They seemed very familiar with one another and completely unaware that they were in a room of hundreds of strangers.

_So she completed her degree. Of course she did. She always loved birds more than me. But now? Where is her love?_

He watched the strong hand that spread across the small of her back, dangerously close to the very top of her backside. Even though it was draped in sumptuous silk charmeuse, the curves of her firm runner’s buttocks were visible, especially when she moved.

He’d never seen her so dressed up before. Never. A floor length gown, jewelry, heels, hair clearly styled for the evening. Makeup. She looked like a vision, a dream. It was too much. 

Too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many lovely versions of “Alto Giove” to be found sung by counter tenors and sopranos. Here’s one of my favorites: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFABDUYMOFQ&list=RDiFABDUYMOFQ&start_radio=1
> 
> I got the inspiration for a Hugh thought from this little interview with Josh Whitehouse (when asked “What’s the best smell to wake up to in the morning?” he responded “The faded fragrance of a loved one”). Read the whole thing here: https://www.esquiresg.com/josh-whitehouse-talks-about-being-mr-burberry-and-his-roles-as-a-musician-actor-and-model/


	3. 3

Ross Poldark gave a good speech. 

He always had, so it wasn’t a surprise when tonight, as best man, he was called upon to toast the newlyweds and mastered the moment. His handsome physical presence, his intonation and deep commanding voice that carried across the room, all meant the delivery would be spot on and memorable even if he’d been reciting the phone book. But there were other aspects of his charisma as well. Among those who knew him, Ross was deeply respected and known for being decent and honest--worth listening to--and those who didn’t know him, still benefited from the residue of this reputation. And then of course there were the words, the ideas he chose to share. A well worded and poetic message, meaningful to every person in the room, no matter their experience or station. In tonight’s toast he quoted Auden, Rilke, and Arsene Wenger. And when he wrapped up, raising his glass in honour of Dwight and Caroline, there was hardly a dry eye in the room. 

After the applause died down and the bride and grown had kissed to the satisfaction of the crowd, Caroline smiled and spoke.

“And now the maid of honour must also say a toast,” Caroline said.

“Oh erm...Caroline. I wasn't expecting this...” Demelza began, flushing and holding on to Ross’s hand tightly out of sheer terror. But eyes around the room were waiting patiently and she saw there was no way out.

“I won’t say this nearly as eloquently as Ross, but I hope my words can be at least as honest,” she began. She was nervous but onlookers wouldn’t know this for she carried herself with a confident poise she’d somehow known to be appropriate for the occasion. 

“Dwight Enys is the best teacher I’ve ever known, and Caroline Pen... _Enys._..has an unbelievably generous heart--and both those things have pushed me to find the precious things in life that matter most. How often can one pinpoint that their reasons for living, their very happiness is the result of actual people in their lives who made a difference? There are few of us in this room that haven't been touched by them in some way--and many of us do owe them more than we can summarise in a wedding speech. And now, once again, Dwight has taught us and Caroline has given us something: this fine evening and the example of their love. So I applaud them for doing what we all should do--and that is to follow the devices and desires of our own hearts. And I’m sure I speak for all of us, when I say to them, _Thank you_.”

Again the room exploded in applause and Demelza dared to look at the table she had just addressed to see if her remarks had been well received. Relieved the Enyses were glowing with happiness, she glanced to Ross and almost lost her breath when she saw how he beamed back at her with a glossy-eyed, squinty look of adoration. He had let go of her hand while she spoke but now he reclaimed it quickly and raised it to his lips with affection. She gazed back and hoped her own face wasn’t marred with the overwhelming emotion she felt swelling in her heart. 

Neither of them noticed the commotion across the room.

“Good god, Mr. Armitage! Quick give the man some water!” cried the jeweler, Mr. Pennington, as Hugh Armitage, grey-faced, began to slump in his seat.

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” George Warleggan announced, yanking the man by his arm and loosening his neck tie for him. “That’s it...man up, old fellow! Nothing to be alarmed about. It’s just so blasted hot in here!”

\-----

Based on the bright murmurs about the room as everyone enjoyed their dinner, the Enyses could could only imagine that Lorenzo’s methodical approach had worked and guests seemed quite content with their conversation partners. If Caroline’s meddling had interfered with the science, there was no evidence at the moment.

But after dinner was cleared away and before the impressive dessert parade began, there began some stirrings, as people rose from their tables to go visit others around the room. Ross tapped Dwight on the shoulder and flashed him the Partagas Cuban cigars he had procured for the occasion. After first imploring Caroline’s permission, Ross whisked Dwight away to enjoy their prizes on the veranda. That meant Demelza was now left unattended. Caroline sensed the brief reprieve from danger was ending and she’d need to think fast. 

She didn't have to look far for her secret weapon.

“Verity! My dear, dear friend.” Caroline clasped Verity Poldark’s hand, kissed her cheek enthusiastically, and pulled her aside. “I'm hoping you might do me the kindest of favours.”

“Well Caroline you _are_ the bride--and good god you are so lovely, I might add,” she sighed. Verity was always so taken by the joy and beauty around her, especially when it touched someone she loved.

“See that man?” Caroline explained, pointing to Hugh Armitage at Table 16. “I need you to.. _.distract_ him.” 

“I'm not sure what you mean…how shall I…?” Verity stammered. “You aren’t going to ask me to pick his pockets, are you?” she whispered nervously.

“No, nothing _illegal_. Dance with him. Chat him up. Ask him about where he went to school, just keep him away from Demelza.”

“Demelza? I’d rather hoped to spend time tonight with my...erm…’plus one’ but if this is important…?” she laughed, glancing over at her date. Andrew was gamely, patiently, listening to Caroline’s aunt, who hadn’t stopped talking for close to thirty minutes straight. Verity supposed it was in some ways a step up from listening to her own Aunt Agatha's tirades, for at least Aunt Sarah’s sermons hadn’t been heard before. Verity considered politely declining Caroline’s request, then realised the bride was scheming and it would be hopeless to say no.

“Trust me,” Caroline nodded. “I know you are fond of your beloved cousin Ross so just think of this as a service to him.”

“To ask that extremely attractive young man to dance with me helps _Ross_?” Verity raised a suspicious brow.

“Yes.”

\--

Dwight found the rich flavour and aroma of the cigar to be exquisite and the company equally so, but it didn’t take long for the smoke to go to his head. He’d had a few glasses of both champagne and wine already and sensed he’d better pace himself if he were to make it through the rest of the long evening ahead of him. His formal wear offered little protection from the brisk cold air and so after just a few minutes on the veranda, he begged Ross’s forgiveness and returned to the party.

When Dwight reentered the ballroom he scanned the crowd searching for Caroline. 

_His wife._

He sighed with the deepest of satisfaction. No doubt there were loads of people she had yet to greet, but he hoped he could spend more time with her--just her--as they had managed during dinner.

Caroline was nowhere to be seen but Dwight did spot Hugh Armitage dancing with Verity Poldark. When the music ended Hugh excused himself and looked desperately for a place to sit down.

In a fit of impulse, Dwight decided to approach the man.

“Good evening, Mr. Armitage? Are you...unwell?” Dwight asked.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Miss Poldark has gone to get me a brandy. Very kind of her. I think she’s been assigned to ‘take care of me’,” Hugh smiled then looked up at Dwight with a tired expression. “So you are _the_ Dr. Dwight Enys? To think I’d meet you all these years later. You see, I had decided long ago that I quite despised you.”

“How odd considering we’d never met,” Dwight said.

“Yes, but you see, Demelza spoke of you often. She...trusted you.” 

It was enough that Dwight knew what he referred to. It was Dwight who Demelza had called when she was in need, not Hugh. She allowed Dwight in when she put up walls to keep everyone else--or at least Hugh--at bay. How was it that it seemed both yesterday but also ages ago?

“Did you ever consider that you were just not well matched?” Dwight answered.

“Perhaps we weren’t then,” Hugh said. But he was convinced that he would have changed for her. He would have given up everything and anything--joined the circus, become a mime--whatever she asked. She just never thought enough of him to ask.

“So tell me are they...married?” Hugh asked haltingly, gesturing to Ross and Demelza who seemed to have reunited just then in the ballroom. Demelza clung to Ross’s lapels and put her nose to Ross’s collar, inhaling deeply. Apparently she liked what she smelled there for she kissed Ross on the mouth then licked her lips.

“Demelza and Ross Poldark? No, not married but they live together. They’ve been together for some time.” Dwight replied. Actually it had been less than a year but that hardly mattered.

“She looks very happy.” Hugh choked out the words.

“She is,” Dwight said simply. 

He bristled at Hugh’s forwardness. This man might be an old friend of Caroline’s family but he was encroaching into zones about which Dwight felt quite protective. He recalled Demelza's appraisal of Hugh years ago and wasn’t interested in giving Hugh equal air time. But most importantly, this was his wedding day and the only thing on his mind was Caroline Enys’s happiness. 

Dash Hugh and his broken heart! And quite frankly, wasn’t this really Ross’s problem, not his?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers will no doubt recognize Demelza’s toast is a twist on her words (and Francis’s) at the end of Winston Graham’s Jeremy.


	4. 4

Ross eagerly approached the urinal, then caught sight of the stone-faced attendant against the wall opposite. It took a few seconds of feeling awkward before Ross managed to overcome his stage fright and accomplish his urgent task.

“Pardon me. Ross Poldark?” He heard a voice behind him that he assumed was not the attendant.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry I don’t…” he said, turning around to find a young man addressing him. He was exceptionally well-dressed but so was everyone at the reception, including the lavatory attendant.

“No, don’t worry. You don't know me. Hugh, Hugh Armitage. I’m an old family friend of Caroline’s, just came to town for her wedding. She had pointed you out to me.”

Ross was about to offer his hand to this stranger but considering what it had just been holding, he refrained. He wasn’t sure why Caroline had singled him out, that sounded curious. He supposed he should make some sort of conversation if he was a friend of Caroline’s. The man looked a bit unwell. Pale, weak--as though he’d had a shock, really.

“Are you...in town for long?” Ross thought to say and began to move towards the sinks.

“Just a few days. My mother’s family was from the area but it’s been quite a while since they died, all except my one uncle. I’ve always wanted to spend time on the north coast, though. You see, I once was quite in love with a girl from Cornwall.” 

“Cornish girls are the best to fall in love with,” Ross laughed, taking a towel from the attendant whose stolid expression still hadn’t faltered. He thought he saw Hugh grip the side of the basin.

“Yes well, I’ll be going back to London tomorrow,” Hugh managed to say.

“Are you from London?” It seemed a safe question to ask. Hugh appeared to want to talk but Ross wasn’t sure why. 

“Actually, I grew up in Liverpool,” Hugh replied.

“Liverpool, eh? My girlfriend is a huge Liverpool fan, makes me sit through the matches fairly often. I think they’re all prima donnas. I prefer Burnley myself. That’s real football. Maybe not pretty, but respectable.”

“Yes,” Hugh laughed politely, although it was clear he had no real opinion on the matter.

“Caroline and Dwight seem quite happy tonight. Have you met Dwight Enys properly?” Ross asked and now began to move towards the door. He was content to keep talking to this fellow but would prefer to not stay in the gents all night.

“Yes, I have. For some time I’d heard a fair bit about him so I was pleased to finally see him for myself.”

To Ross’s relief Hugh followed him out into the corridor. 

“He seems an outstanding specimen of a man,” Hugh continued with a gentle, almost sad smile. “It is no wonder he is so well loved.”

“Dwight is the best.”

“And you, Mr. Poldark? You seem to be the ‘best’ too?” Hugh smiled pointing to the flower in Ross’s lapel, apparently making a joke at his status as best man.

“Oh, I’d hardly say I’m the best!” Ross chuckled. “But I would do anything for Caroline and Dwight.”

“To loyalty and fidelity,” Hugh said, raising an imaginary glass.

“Oh let me do something about that for you,” Ross said. “What are you drinking, Armitage?

\---

Hugh watched Ross walk off towards the bar. The man had a handsome swagger and it was easy to see that he was physically compelling. But after speaking with him, Hugh also got a sense he was a decent man. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. Of course there was a part of him that was undeniably seething with envy. He had witnessed throughout the night how Demelza wanted Ross. She couldn’t stop reaching for him--at dinner, on the dance floor, even while just standing next to him. But Hugh could also see she was in good hands. Poldark seemed to know her and like her. It wasn’t so much a relief as a confusing development that complicated all Hugh’s feelings. If Demelza were not there that evening, he could see sitting down with Poldark and having further conversation. 

He hadn’t really wanted a drink--the champagne at dinner and the brandy Verity had brought him were really his limit. But he knew that it would be easier to send Ross off on an errand to the bar than to explain to him why he was so easily overcome by exhaustion or why he looked as though he’d seen a ghost. Once Ross was out of sight across the room, Hugh flagged down a waiter and asked for a glass of water.

 _I’m the one who took Demelza to her first Liverpool match. We sat in the VIP box and she got tipsy on champagne and had to hold to my arm to keep steady on her feet. But it wasn’t just for balance, was it? She liked to touch me then and often did. And that night was the first we granted ourselves to each other. Back at my flat, we never even made it to the bedroom but made love on the sofa, too impatient to fully undress,_ he thought. _When did she stop wanting me?_

\--

“Good evening Elizabeth,” Ross said politely as he passed her at the bar.

She nodded and smiled, also politely but not really welcoming a lengthy exchange. 

The two had been divorced for what seemed like hundreds of years and had managed to live in the same neighbourhood--even share family members--so they both knew the drill.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said, knowing the compliment would throw off her calm poise.

“Oh well yes, thank you. You too...erm...lovely evening, I mean.”

“Yes lovely.”

“Simply beautiful affair.” 

“Yes,” he said.

“Of course I’m not surprised considering Caroline’s professional expertise and taste, but then again it was a rather... _hasty_ engagement,” she added. 

_She had to throw in some sort of a barb, even if slight,_ Ross thought.

“And Dr. Carne, she looks lovely.” Elizabeth quickly took a sip of her pink drink--probably a cosmopolitan. It was the same colour as her gown, which Ross found vaguely disturbing.

“Yes, she does,” Ross agreed.

“It’s a rare talent for someone with _such_ striking red hair to be able to wear _such_ a vivid green and not look…”

“Lovely,” he said cutting off her commentary and allowing his eyes to wander all the way across the room to where Demelza sat talking to Clowance Carrington and Dwight’s cousin, Roger. He held his breath for a moment, thinking how content he was to have her by his side tonight but most importantly he was happy because she was happy. Even from far away, he could see her mouth and eyes smiling.

Ross then noticed George talking to someone just a bit closer to the bar. He thought it best not to comment on George’s shiny grey suit that almost appeared silver in the muted light of the ballroom, for surely Aunt Agatha would let him know her feelings on it. George shifted his weight as he feigned a casual posture and Ross was then able to identify his partner in conversation. It was Armitage, the fellow Ross had just met in the gents and for whom he was now ordering a gin and tonic. 

“I see George has made a friend tonight,” Ross noted. George was pontificating about something and Hugh looked very tired.

“Hugh--Hugh Armitage...an old Penvenen family friend,” Elizabeth explained. If Ross had asked, no doubt she could recite his pedigree and his net worth. “Hugh is an investment banker and well, you can see why that would be of interest to George,” she said.

 _Trying to get some advice for free, or worse, finance a new scheme to ruin someone,_ Ross thought and felt his pulse quickening. Then he took a few deep breaths--this wasn't a night to be spoiled by old animosities, no matter how obnoxiously offensive George Warleggan’s presence was. He owed it to Caroline and Dwight--and also to Demelza.

“Yes I just met Armitage in the erm...earlier,” Ross said. “Seems a nice man.”

Elizabeth peered over the rim of her glass then looked quickly to her left and right. Ross understood she was about to share some sort of secret she’d learned.

“Poor man. Seems he’s terminally ill…” she began. “Brain tumour,” she whispered.

“Did he tell you this?” Ross asked. It now made more sense that the man had appeared so weak and pale when they’d spoken earlier. 

“No, Caroline’s aunt told me. He doesn't look as though he’s started any _treatment_...” she said, then lowered her voice again, “I was told there just really isn't any point.”

“Well let's hope her aunt proves to be mistaken or that the man has some miraculous recovery,” Ross said uncomfortably.

“Oh yes, yes of course,” she nodded. 

Meanwhile George had wrapped his arm around Hugh and had led him back to Table 16, no doubt to slip in some business--while there still was time.

“Excuse me, Elizabeth,” Ross felt his cordial veneer cracking by the second and looked for a way out. “Would you please be so kind as to deliver this G & T to Mr. Armitage?”

“Yes,” she blushed. “Of course.” 


	5. 5

Caroline had finally disentangled herself from yet another uninspiring conversation. No, she wasn’t devastated that she’d be missing the Milan shows the next week since she’d be on her honeymoon and yes, she’d be using her new name professionally as well.

The guest list had been packed with so many friends and important business connections--editors, photographers, even a few of her favourite designers. And yet, she felt very alone in that moment.

More and more, Caroline had become disconnected from the glitter of the big city world. She’d created a small, carefully curated life in Cornwall that she no longer viewed as the _absence_ of London but something special in itself.

This had crystalised for her some weeks before. Feted by so many friends in the time leading up to her nuptials--there had been no less than six different hen parties in her honour--but her favourite had been a weekend in Oslo with just Verity and Demelza to catch a Munch exhibition. It was so easy a time, so genuinely enjoyable. They talked of life and love, and of course of Cornwall. This feeling, not of seeking but just of being, had grown familiar to her, and she knew she had Dwight to thank for planting the seed.

Now she scanned the room anxiously to find him. Dwight stood in a small crowd of older women she couldn’t quite recognise from the distance, his head thrown back in laughter, his hand casually holding a full glass aloft. He seemed relaxed and happy tonight, even though socialising with hundreds of strangers was clearly not his preferred milieu. She sighed, and understood this stretch as a marker of his devotion to her.

Then suddenly a new worry seized her--was she _changing_ him? She sincerely hoped not. Caroline loved Dwight for who he was--even when his instincts of simplicity, discretion, and discipline were at odds with her own. In fact, she enjoyed those moments best for she felt him a sort of guardrail to remind her how close to the edge she sometimes traveled.

And then she saw Hugh, striding purposefully across the ballroom, his eyes fixed on something--or rather someone--behind her. After these many hours, he’d clearly mustered his courage and Caroline didn't need to turn around to know his quarry.

“Caroline!” Demelza had come up beside her that very moment and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve been preoccupied tonight. I’m simply having such a marvelous time,” she said breathlessly.

“That, my dear, was precisely my intention,” Caroline said, swinging around and taking Demelza’s arm in hers before Hugh had a chance to get any closer. She began marching them towards the exit, unsure of what her next move would be but relieved that Demelza hadn’t caught sight of Hugh. “You and Ross spend entirely too much time holed up at Nampara together and never get out.”

“Oh I’m not complaining!” Demelza laughed. “Ross doesn’t really like crowds and I think our life suits us fine.” She paused and bit her lip, thinking of the ways she and Ross kept themselves occupied most evenings. “Although every now and then it’s a great treat to be out in such a scene. And, as maid of honour, I’m supposed to be here for you tonight! Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Come with me for a breath of fresh air? I thought we could maybe step out on the terrace for a moment and you could…” Caroline’s mind raced as she frantically tried to think of a plausible request. “You could...point out the constellations!”

“You want me to show you the stars?” Demelza laughed incredulously.

“Just for a moment...it’s so warm in here, I’m feeling rather faint.” Caroline fanned herself.

“Oh, my of course. Yes, it is warm. I’m surprised--I expected we’d be shivering with all our bare skin.” Demelza’s dress had thin shoulder straps and Caroline’s gown was altogether strapless so they both had much exposed.

“Well, I will let you in on a secret. Lorenzo had the staff adjust the temperature in the ballroom so it’s warmer than usual. The gentlemen are all sweating in their evening jackets but we ladies for once get to be more comfortable than we deserve on a frigid February evening! Besides, the average thermostat settings have been gauged according to men’s bodies for years. If ever there was a night to rail against the patriarchy, it was this one,” Caroline declared. Nothing--not even a winter wedding--was going to deprive Caroline of her dream of wearing a strapless gown.

They boldly stepped outside and immediately found the night air bracing, although neither wanted to admit their discomfort.

“I should have asked Ross for some cigars for us while we’re out here,” Demelza laughed, trying to disguise her shivering.

“It may seem odd but I adore the smell of cigars. They remind me of my uncle,” Caroline said but cut herself off before she got too sentimental for her missing relatives. She had tried not to dwell on the fact that she had so little family left now--only Aunt Sarah off in London, distant in so many ways. “Ah well, it may be cold outside here in Cornwall but soon I’ll be barefoot in the warm sands of the Seychelles…” Caroline raised her brow and peeked sidewise at Demelza, who swallowed in surprise. 

“So Dwight gave in and told you?” she laughed nervously.

“No but you just did,” Caroline beamed.

Demelza gasped and nearly lost her balance on the frosty bricks beneath her high heeled feet.

“Caroline! Oh I’ve ruined it--I’ve ruined everything,” she cried, clutching Caroline’s arm in despair.

“Oh don’t worry, my dear. I won’t say a word and will play along.” Caroline tried to comfort her. What had she declared earlier? That all the members of the bridal party should remain happy--no tears, no quarreling, no vomiting?

“No, you don’t want to start off a marriage on a lie, do you?” Demelza said.

“No, you are quite right. But it wasn’t your fault. I had a theory and needed to test it. It was all very scientific--I believe Dwight has rubbed off on me.”

“Oh?” Demelza asked tentatively

“Well he’d mentioned time and again how he was fascinated by some such tree in the arboreal wonderlands of the Seychelles but since he was no longer associated with an institution it was harder to get study grants. And then I thought that he would try to find a spot for our honeymoon that really worked for both of us. He could have taken me to a 5 star resort in Bora Bora but I think he’d want to insert a bit more of himself into it, because he believes in... _us_.”

“Yes, yes he does, Caroline,” Demelza said softly, then smiled devilishly. “But who says the resort isn’t five star?” 

“Now you have given away a secret!”

“Come let’s look at the sky,” Demelza said. “Well, there’s Orion, of course. Oh look! Venus is just setting but that!” She pointed breathlessly. “That’s Jupiter just coming into view.”

“ _Alto Giove_ ,” Caroline whispered, and despite her earlier resolve, thought of her long-absent mother. And then, in that beautiful star lit and chilly moment, Caroline recognised she had a new family now--of course Dwight, but also Ross, Demelza, even Verity and Andrew. “Thank you...what would I do without you, Demelza?”

“You know there’s an app for this, don’t you?” Demelza laughed.

\-----

“Dear Ross! Could you kindly ask Demelza to go up to my room and fetch me my wrap? I’m suddenly quite cold,” Caroline said finding Ross unattended in the grand ballroom. She clutched his arm and handed him her room key without waiting for a response. 

It was partially true. The adventure out on the veranda had left her chilly but she suspected that she’d warm up soon enough in the overly-heated room, especially if she could find Dwight. Perhaps they could dance again, and maybe this time without interruption. But in order to do that, she’d need to be satisfied that her Hugh problem wouldn’t flare up while she was otherwise occupied.

“Yes, I’d be happy to pass the message on to her--she’s just gone in the ladies’,” Ross replied. “Caroline, I haven’t yet had the honour of telling you how beautiful you look tonight,” he added.

“Oh my dear Ross, thank you. As much as I have heard those words this evening, it is always welcome coming from a man of your good taste. You know, I think it was a much different circumstance the last time I slipped you my room key,” she winked. 

“Yes, it was. A lot can happen in nine years,” he laughed, and glanced over at Dwight across the room.

“Nine? Are you sure? I thought it was more than that…” she said. 

“I believe this look suits you,” Ross said, gesturing towards her lace veil still elegantly pinned to her sleek blonde head. 

“Well Ross, if you are so fond of bridal wear, why not invite some into your own life? As beautiful as Demelza looks in green she’s even more lovely in white, you know?” she boldly suggested.

“She looks lovely in anything,” he added. “But it’s her you’d need to convince, not me,” Ross replied with a curious flicker of sadness in his soft voice, only detectable if you knew to listen for it.

\----

“My love, Caroline has just asked if you could retrieve her wrap from her room.” Ross pounced on Demelza as soon as she rejoined the reception, then added in a low growl, “Shall I...join you?” 

“Heavens no, Ross!” Demelza gasped. “It took Katie almost an hour to fully dress me today. As much as I might want to, I’m not just going to slip out of this gown for a quick rendez-vous, no matter who is doing the asking.”

“We can be creative and you needn’t fully undress,” he whispered, taking her hand in his.

“Ross, this reception will be over in just over one hour,” she said, after glancing at the elegant gold watch on her wrist. She kissed him, allowing her lower lip to linger teasingly on his upper one for just a moment longer. “I’m rather sure even you can wait.”

“I’m rather sure I cannot.” His other hand moved to her glorious silk-clad bottom. She tried to swat it off then took it in hers. 

Holding both his hands now, she looked him in the eye with a gentle smile. She had a way of soothing him without saying a word.

“Okay, one hour but not a minute more,” he conceded.

“Oh I promise I won’t dawdle. I saw the massive clawfoot tub in our suite. I can’t wait for a hot bath,” she replied.

“Are your feet cold?”

“That’s for you to decide,” she winked.

“And are you eager for some warm company?”

“Did I mention just how big the tub is?”

\---

The floor was now quite crowded. Dancers of all generations, shapes and sizes, had paired up--or in some cases seemed content to dance alone--swaying and spinning while the orchestra delivered song after song. Many of the men had loosened their collars and a brave few had shed their dinner jackets altogether in the unusual warmth of the dazzling ballroom.

“Excuse me, Mr. Armitage, I was hoping I might have the next dance?” Emma Tregirls’s wide blue eyes smiled while her mouth settled into a lusciously wicked pout. “That is, if Verity will allow it?”

A look of elated relief washed over Verity’s face that she struggled to hide. “Oh of course, I’ll share Mr. Armitage, but be warned he is an amazing dancer.”

“Well, thank you and yes, I’d be delighted to dance but I need just a moment of rest. I don’t have nearly the energy Miss Poldark has!” Hugh kissed Verity’s hand politely. “Can I get you both some drinks and we can all sit for a moment?”

“Well, I’d kill for a shot of tequila but I’m driving so please just some sparkling water. I'm Emma by the way.”

“Sparkling water does sound perfect, doesn’t it?” Hugh smiled. “And Verity, can I get you another Bailey’s?”

“Oh no thank you. I’ve rather had enough,” she giggled nervously.

“If you’re certain? I’ll be right back then. Verity, Emma.” He flashed another charming smile and wandered away through the crowds.

“Oh Emma, thank you for the break! Andrew has been most understanding but I’m afraid his patience will wear thin if he’s abandoned any longer. Has Caroline put you to work tonight too?”

“Work? What do you mean?” Emma asked.

“She didn't dispatch you to keep Hugh occupied?”

“No, I spotted him across the room and just wanted to talk to him! But I’d hardly call it _work_ keeping a dashing young bloke like Hugh Armitage in my company. And Caroline told me I’m to be a guest tonight no matter how Lorenzo glares at me or tries to rope me into service.” 

Caroline had been very supportive of Emma, her former assistant, quitting the styling business to attend law school. Lorenzo however had seen her resignation as a personal affront. 

“But he doesn’t need me--it looks like Katie Thomas has done a fine job filling my shoes since I left for school. I suspect she doesn’t talk back to Lorenzo nearly as much as I did. In any case I’ve heard the girl’s a godsend,” Emma said.

“No, tonight _you_ are a godsend, Emma! And Hugh Armitage is all yours!” Verity said, and without a backwards glance, left Emma alone to wait for Hugh’s return.


	6. 6

To his surprise, Hugh found he’d enjoyed himself dancing with the lively girl who’d introduced herself as Emma. There was something honest about her that he appreciated and had it been any other night, he might have let himself go and pursued an evening of pleasure with his new acquaintance.

But it wasn’t just any night. It was a precious opportunity granted him--perhaps by the heavens--that he never thought he’d have. A second chance at getting the answers to questions he’d never been able to ask.

He closed his eyes and in his mind he could see the cover page of the _Birds of Northern England_ that he’d considered carrying with him tonight, but in the end had left behind at his uncle’s. It must have been a thousand times he’d read the inscription she’d written in it years ago. An energetic scrawl in uneven block letters had been started in black ink but the biro died so it was finished with blue. 

_“HUGH! The green woodpecker--p 121--reminds me of you! Enjoy._ 😊 ♡ _\--DC”_

All these years later and he still never understood what she meant.

\-----

“Dwight, what have we done? Look at the poor man!” Caroline sighed. 

Hugh Armitage was pacing back and forth, perhaps even talking to himself, as though he was rehearsing the right words to say to someone. At the moment he was alone, having separated himself from the boisterous crowd and the eagle-eyed chaperones Caroline had assigned.

“Should I go speak to him? Maybe arrange a sit down with Demelza? We could mediate!” she offered excitedly, then her face fell when she realised just how awkward that might be.

“Perhaps this is all for nothing,” Dwight shook his head. “From what I recall Demelza saying about him years ago...I can assure you he means nothing to her now. No doubt she's forgotten him.”

“As she has all her lovers?” Caroline raised a brow.

“Yes, Caroline,” Dwight laughed, refusing to take the bait. “But on the subject of old lovers, need I remind you, Unwin Trevaunance--a man to whom you were once engaged---is over there chatting up your aunt?“

“Unwin was a mere blip. And I can’t believe Aunt Sarah invited him and that he came! Then again I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d invited your Rosina just for a laugh. Or would you like that?”

“My dear, we’ve never had a quarrel about past loves,” he said softly.

“No and we never shall. Most importantly not tonight.” 

“Then you’ll stop fretting about Demelza and hers?”

“But I’m not worried about Demelza, I'm worried about Hugh, the romantic fool,” she said. “Just look at the silly poet _._ Demelza would never make a scene but perhaps he will?”

“Maybe it would be best for him to get it over with so he can put the ghosts to rest?”

“Ah but weddings are not for facing truths as they are for chasing dreams, Dwight. At least for the guests.” She nodded towards Dwight’s old mate Kevin now dancing very closely with Ruth Teague. “I, however, have faced down the deepest of truths tonight,” she said solemnly.

“Yes and what’s that?” he asked.

“That all the good fortune and comfortable circumstances I have been granted--they are all nothing without you. And that I found you to love and that you love me, is the single greatest privilege I have been afforded my whole life.”

She’d hardly finished speaking when he kissed her. It felt almost clumsy as the timing was imprecise--abrupt, offbeat--and caught them both out of breath. And yet it was perfect in its own way. Urgent and driven by desires and emotions beyond either of their control.

“Let's get out of here,” Caroline said suddenly. 

“But don’t we need to…“ Dwight asked, looking at his watch.

“No, it’s time--even according to Lorenzo’s schedule. And since I can't possibly say goodnight to everyone, it’s best we just slip away. I simply won’t have one of those tasteless announcements, you know what I mean,” she scoffed.

“ _Mr. & Mrs. Smith are now leaving the reception to go consummate their marriage. Please everyone let’s congratulate them in advance for all the sex they will be having while you stumble drunk in the car park facing your empty beds and shattered dreams...” _Dwight said in a mocking voice that he knew would cause Caroline to laugh. 

“Don’t let Lorenzo see me but I’ll just let Demelza know we’re off,” she suggested.

“I believe Ross has other plans for her…” Dwight said, pointing towards Ross who was wasting no time guiding a most willing Demelza out of the reception hall and up the grand staircase leading to the suites above.


	7. 7

“You seem to be holding your spirits well tonight. Whereas my head is swimming…” Ross said as he followed Demelza into their hotel room.

“My spirits? I _am_ in good spirits...oh you mean my drink? That’s because I hardly had any,” she laughed and kicked off her shoes with joyous relief.

He had seen her refuse any refills on the glass of champagne she politely sipped in the toasts to the bride and groom but thought that was simply because she didn't care for champagne. 

“Are you...unwell?” he asked, suddenly worried she might have a more significant reason for eschewing drink.

“Oh relax, I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking!” she laughed. “No, I only wanted to stay steady on my feet tonight so I didn’t embarrass myself and show Dwight and Caroline up.”

“My love, I can’t imagine you’d ever do or say anything that…”

“Ross, those heels were ridiculous and the gown so long and drapey. I thought for sure I’d trip a dozen times. But I mostly feared spilling something on it.”

“You mean I like I did when we first met?” 

“I always have to remind you that wasn’t the first time we met nor even the first time you rammed into me but it was the first time Caroline dressed me. Ross, that gown was fucking Dior! I still shudder to think what would have happened if I’d had a glass of merlot in my hand when we crossed paths.”

“I would have undressed you at once rather than waiting weeks and weeks.”

“Ross, you can undress me now. Or help me in any case,” she said turning around. “The zipper is here on the side but I need help slipping it over my…”

Ross required no further instructions--it was what he’d been dying to do all night. He reached down and gently gathered armfuls of the sumptuous silk, carefully lifting the green cloud over her raised arms. Once he’d cleared her fingertips, he bent forward to kiss her exposed neck but she ducked out of the way and gingerly took the dress from him.

“Hand me that hanger, Ross?” she said breezily. “Katie said she’d pop by tonight to pick this up.” The dress was on loan of course, which was just as well. Demelza didn’t really have a lifestyle in which silk gowns featured prominently. The sooner it was out of her possession entirely, the better; then she might finally stop fretting about its care and relax.

\--

“Oh god, yes!” Demelza called out. “Oh my god, that feels so fucking good!”

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Ross, half dressed, asked as he poked his head into the bath. 

The tub had already begun to fill with hot sudsy water and Demelza had slipped her tired body and sore feet in without delay. Ross licked his lips watching as her private-most flesh became obscured by the growing mound of bubbles.

“Mmmn…” she groaned again, closing her eyes in pleasure.

“What will the neighbours think?” he teased.

“Oh I’m rather sure it's nothing they haven’t heard before! Hurry up, Poldark, get undressed and join me!” She stared him down, her eyes snapping with passion.

He quickly slipped off his boxers and struggled to free his feet from his socks. He was contemplating just plunging into the tub with his socks still on, when he heard a knock on the room door.

“Shh…” he whispered. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

“Ross, it’s probably Katie. Just give her the gown and get it over with!” She laughed and blew a soft handful of bubbles at him to send him on his way.

Ross looked about for his clothes but they were mostly strewn about the outer room so he hastily grabbed one of the plush dressing gowns the hotel had provided. He was already at the outer door when he saw he’d chosen poorly, for the one he’d snatched up was meant for a smaller body--presumably a woman’s--and was rather short and barely closed across his front.

Still he was anxious to complete this dress handoff and answered the door despite his ridiculous appearance.

“Ross Poldark,” Hugh Armitage said solemnly and swallowed hard as Ross yanked the door open.

“Armitage?” Ross immediately worried that the man might fall over on his doorstep. “Come in and sit?” he added, then regretted that he’d invited a guest in while an eager and naked Demelza was waiting in the other room. “What can I do for you?” he continued, unsure of how to proceed.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt you at this late hour. It was actually Demelza--Dr. Carne--I came to see…”

“Demelza?” Ross shook his head and laughed. “She’s in the bath but I can get her...I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”

“Indeed. I need to confess to you, Poldark. Years ago, in Liverpool, I used to...I was quite in love with Demelza.”

“Oh? I didn’t know this…and now?” Ross asked. He had an instinct--the way Hugh tenderly delivered the words and had spoken her name, Ross could see the man still harboured those feelings. 

“Well, no, you are correct. I never stopped. I suppose you’ll want to strike me for my bluntness,” Hugh said.

“No, Hugh, I won’t... but please have a seat and let’s talk,” Ross said calmly and stepped backwards into the room so that Hugh had to follow. “It seems the one you need to be having this conversation with is Demelza so why don’t I go…”

“No...don’t!” Hugh furrowed his brow and bit his lip, apparently embarrassed at his outburst. “Let me explain…”

Hugh stepped into the room and his large shining eyes darted around quickly, getting a lay of the land. Demelza’s shoes on the floor where she’d kicked them off, Ross’s trousers folded over the back of the chair, a single open case on the bed in which their belongings mingled together. Real people inhabited the room, with flesh and blood and thoughts of their own. People who moved through the world breathing, and loving, and acting on their own devices.

“I had thought I should speak to her and tell her what I knew in my heart to be true--and to give her this,” Hugh began and briefly held up a small piece of folded paper that he then tucked back in his breast pocket. “But I think I see now that I have something quite precious--a dream of perfection and love that belongs only to me. And if I should go...well...it is perhaps best that I don’t spoil that dream by exposing it to the harsh light of reality. Will you give her my best? And please congratulate her on completing her degree?”

“Of course but if you…” Ross said. He wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment. It certainly wasn’t jealousy--he knew Demelza’s heart was his even if she had a past that included others. He was somewhat curious what was written on the folded paper, although he wasn't about to ask. And he was sorry for this man--yet Ross thought his revelation had been a wise one. Dreams and memories have their place as long as they are understood for what they are and not mistaken for what they aren’t.

“You know Poldark, I thought I had questions--about why she left me--but I believe I had the answers all along. And I am forever grateful that I knew her in this life…Good night and I’m sorry for having disturbed you.”

“Good night, Hugh. Are you staying here at the hotel?”

“No, I’m staying with my uncle. It’s not far and Emma Tregirls has offered to drive me tonight.”

“Here's my mobile if you change your mind about anything.” Ross scribbled his number on the hotel notepad on the desk.

“That's quite kind and generous of you, Mr. Poldark. I’m glad Demelza has someone who...I can see she is lucky to have you.”

 _That’s what I think of her_ , Ross thought to himself and clasped Hugh on the arm. He hoped his embrace wasn’t too strong for the man seemed to stagger ever so slightly.

\---

When Ross reentered the bathroom, the water in the tub had reached Demelza’s shoulders. He expected that if he joined her now, the water he’d displace would splash all over the floor. 

“This is for you,” he said, and handed her a vodka and lime he’d thrown together from the mini bar in the room. He thought she might need it after a long abstemious night and perhaps considering what he had to tell her. “Are your feet warmed up now?”

“Mmm...yes. Was that Katie for the dress?” she asked.

“No, it was someone else. I don't know if I should tell you this…”

“That’s always a promising start to a conversation. Ross?”

“There was someone to see you but then he changed his mind,” Ross said.

“What?”

“Does the name Hugh Armitage mean anything to you?”

“Hugh? What? Don’t be daft--what the hell was he doing here? To see me? Ross?”

“Yes.”

“Hugh Armitage, my ex boyfriend from seven thousand years ago? You spoke to him--tonight?” She sat up in the tub and cocked her head in disbelief.

“He was apparently here at the wedding. He’s a family friend of Caroline’s.”

“I had no idea. I mean of course I could see that. His family was as posh as hers--they probably played polo together or something. How was it I didn't even see him tonight?”

“He spoke to me but I suspect Caroline might have maneuvered a bit to keep him out of your path. Maybe she believed it might be awkward for you or that I’d make a scene.”

“Would you? Make a scene?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Oh no, Ross! To worry Caroline on her big day? I’m mortified!”

“Knowing Caroline, I think she probably enjoyed a bit of cat and mouse.”

“But Dwight…”

“Probably not so much.” 

“So Hugh came up here but then he didn't want to see me after all? What did you say to him, Ross?” she gasped.

“Nothing--I offered to get you from the bath. But he seemed to change his mind and then he wished you well. I think he saw you might be happy with...me,” Ross said.

“So I am, Ross.”

“Demelza, there’s something else. Elizabeth told me Hugh was terminally ill. He has a brain tumour. So he was perhaps here to say...goodbye?”

“How did _Elizabeth_ know that?”

“She is attuned to gossip.” 

“Oh poor man.”

“I can call him back if you want to see him.” 

“Um, no. Is that so terrible? There really isn't anything I can do or say to him that would help. I can’t even really say I’m sorry. You see, Ross, I’m not so proud of it, but I'm afraid years ago I broke his heart by leaving.”

“So I heard. Did you leave him for another bloke?”

“No, I left him for myself! Sounds selfish doesn't it? It’s just that when someone puts you on a pedestal and thinks everything you do is perfect, well there's just no way to live up to that, is there? He didn't love me, he loved a dream…”

“That’s what he said. He was content to keep you in his memory as his dream.”

“Well, if he’s content...I could just never get him to see the real me, warts and all.”

“You have no warts.”

“But I have freckles and scars and moods and idiosyncrasies.”

“And bad habits.”

“Like what?”

“You rub your cold feet on me in the night and you don't think highly enough of your charms.”

“That’s funny, no other lovers complained about my feet.”

“Demelz…”

“Did he look the same?”

“I don't know. I never saw him before.”

“Big brown eyes, unruly curls that begged to be touched?”

“I have big brown eyes and unruly curls.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said coyly.

“In fact I rather believe my curls are the unruliest.”

“But good god, Ross, tell me you didn't answer the door like that!” She nodded, eyes wide, at the protrusion emerging from the front of his short robe. “No doubt you scared him away.”

“Do I scare you?”

“Hardly.”

“Maybe you should be scared. Come, honourable maiden. Let me see what I can do to change that…” he growled and moved towards the tub shedding the robe entirely.

“Oh, do try your best...” she beckoned.


	8. 8

Caroline awoke and without fully opening her eyes, felt her lashes brush against Dwight’s soft cheek.

How many days was it now that she'd been fortunate enough to spend the majority of her time less than six inches from this man? Nearly two glorious weeks. But it had already been some time that they’d experienced a different kind of closeness. 

When had she first told him her secrets? Slowly she’d begun to let him in all those spring evenings he stayed in her townhouse in Truro while attending to business. She did so even though she thought he was mocking her or judging her--and to an extent he had been. And hadn’t she been doing the same? But then he pushed through the barricades and the well-maintained facade and instead of triumphantly revealing her vulnerability, he shed his own armour and joined her, exposed. 

They were one.

And she’d never be alone again.

“Mmm,” Dwight stirred then puckered his lips to kiss her, knowing she’d be within reach. “Good Morning, Madam Enys,” he smiled. He’d been teasingly calling her ‘Madam’ for days as it had been the favourite salutation of the staff at the Banyan Tree Resort on Mahe Island. 

She opened her eyes now and propped herself up on her elbow to look at his face. It was so serene, with its symmetrical features and classical proportions yet his grey eyes were so complex. She put her finger to his lips while he played with the fine curls that formed along her temples. The warm air had posed a challenge to her usual sleek hairdo but after a few days she had given up, and allowed her natural curls and waves to reign free.

Suddenly Dwight sat up. Wresting himself from her arms, he quickly grabbed his mobile from the bedside table. A distressing silence followed that seemed to last ages. In truth it was less than four seconds--she had counted her own breath. Caroline was just about to speak when slowly he began to laugh.

He plopped himself on his back and allowed his chest to exhale a chuckle that shook the bed.

“Dwight?” she asked tentatively.

He rolled over and grabbed her up in his arms to kiss her then laughed again before his lips reached her.

“Oh Caroline,” he smiled. “This might be a first for both us. We overslept and will have surely missed our plane home.”

She gasped in a moment of horror, then saw he remained relaxed and unfazed by this development and followed his lead.

“And we thought we were so good for each other,” she sighed. “So now what, Dr. Enys?”

“Assuming the room is still available, we order some mimosas and spend another day here, in the warmth of the sun and in each other’s arms. Is that so bad or are you missing Horace too terribly to stay away another day?” 

“I’m assured he’s being indulged in my absence so yes, I think I can manage. But if the room is not available?” she asked.

“Then we sleep on the beach,” he laughed.

“Sounds marvelous either way,” she smiled. “I’d hoped to pick up more sea shells for Ross and Demelza and now I have a chance.” She’d found some amazing shells along the shore--pencil urchin, spider conch and even some stunning sea glass that she couldn’t resist slipping in her pocket to take home.

“You surprise me, my dear. Do you really think that’s the souvenir they’d be expecting from you?” Dwight asked.

“Well Dwight, Ross might not _expect_ it from me but you must agree it is the perfect expression of gratitude for their touching wedding gift to us--and Demelza would most certainly get it.” Better than a formal thank you note, the writing of which Lorenzo was already nagging Caroline about in a flurry of emails.

Caroline settled against Dwight’s chest and quietly exhaled. “Tell me about the jellyfruit tree again?” she asked.

“Jellyfish tree,” he laughed. “Well the Medusagyne oppositifolia, or Bwa Mediz as it is known in Creole is critically endangered. According to Dr. Seng, who I spoke to on Bernica Mountain…”

Yes, they were one.

And she’d never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly now the building of a multinational dam threatens the jellyfish tree in the Seychelles too. http://www.seychellesnewsagency.com/articles/11513/Environmentalists+in+Seychelles+concerned+new+dam+will+impact+endangered+jellyfish+tree
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’m @nervousladytraveler over on tumblr if you want to continue the conversation.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I’m indebted to Winston Graham and Debbie Horsfield for these characters and the Poldark world. Thanks for letting me play with them. 
> 
> I forgot how when I write for this AU, I end up researching the darndest things! Here’s some info on beach pebbles.  
> http://www.bgs.ac.uk/discoveringGeology/geologyOfBritain/holidayguides/pebbles.htm  
> and https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2017/feb/06/no-stone-unturned-my-search-for-the-pebble-hunters-holy-grail
> 
> “Tired of talking, tired of arguing, tired of inquiring...I think I just want you…” borrowed/adapted from WG’s The Angry Tide.
> 
> Conversation between Ross & Demelza about Ross’s “affection” for Caroline comes from the glorious WG novel The Black Moon. But in my AU, R & C actually did sleep together (just a long time before and not while he was with Demelza or she was with Dwight). This R/C fanfic dalliance is alluded to in Which By Its Splendors Rivals the Heavens but never overtly stated (Caroline says something like “We’ve had our fun over the years…”). Sorry if that confused any readers who forgot that detail.
> 
> Visit me at https://nervousladytraveler.tumblr.com/ if you want to continue the conversation!


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